


Abu-il-Banat

by ETraytin



Category: The West Wing
Genre: 5 Things, And then also more things as well, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Prompt Fic, Sometimes they just get away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8447800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: Jed Bartlet is the father of many daughters. Three of them, he raised from birth. Another one showed up one day at his campaign headquarters and hired herself.NOW COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for Anonymous who asked for "Some Jed and Donna father-daughter dynamic," a prompt I immediately realized I had to write because I love it. I probably should've suspected it was going to get away from me pretty fast. It started as a five things fic, but then I realized I had way more than five things, and only one day to write the doggone thing. So Chapter 1 is five things from the first administration, while Chapter 2 covers the second.

February, 1998

When viewed on a map of the United States, the distance between New Hamsphire and Pennsylvania didn't seem that long. When lived in the seat of a campaign bus with no shocks to speak of and climate control that was patchy at best, it was much longer. The “campaign strategy session” in the front five rows of the bus had disintegrated half an hour ago into “Governor Bartlet talks about New England,” and if Josh had been wearing a tie, he'd have used it to strangle himself already. 

“Now William Penn was an interesting fellow, a Quaker by religion, and after he was granted the charter, he founded Pennsylvania with a charter that was rather unique at the time. Does anyone know where the name Pennsylvania comes from, by the way?” The Governor was completely in his element and gleefully ignoring his staff's discomfort. Josh wondered if maybe they shouldn't have run him for Sixth-Grade Civics Teacher of the Year instead of President. 

“Excuse me sir,” he finally said, “I need to go and get the new numbers for next week's field work.” Ignoring Sam's glare at his defection, he escaped to the back of the bus, where it was colder, but more peaceful. He sat down in his seat, next to a pile of blankets that might be trying to pass itself off as his new assistant, and picked up a random handful of papers to give himself some camouflage.

The blankets shifted enough for Donna's face to peek out. Her nose was red from the cold. “Did you know that the name Punxatawney comes from a Native American word for “town of the mosquitos?” she asked. Josh groaned loudly, but she was undeterred. “I'm just saying, it's probably lucky that Groundhog Day is in February and not August. And did you know that the tradition was originally a hedgehog that could see its shadow, but they changed it to groundhogs because there are no hedgehogs in New England?” 

“Okay, that's it.” Josh reached in and found Donna's arm, pulling her out of her cozy blanket nest and ignoring her whine of protest about the cold. He dragged her up to the front of the bus. “Governor, I need Sam and CJ to help me look at these numbers, but Donna here has been researching some really interesting facts about Pennsylvania. I'll let her brief you.” Donna looked a little stunned as he plunked her down in the seat opposite the governor, but gamely tried to smooth out her tousled hair and look professional. Sam and CJ leapt at the opportunity for escape and Toby, no dumb cookie, followed after them. As he led the charge for the back of the bus, he heard “I was just telling Josh that the name Punxatawney means “town of the mosquitos.” 

“Mm, that is unfortunate. Philadelphia did much better for itself, 'the city of brotherly love.' Did you know that William Penn was a Quaker?” 

“Yes sir, and Pennsylvania was the only the second colony established that allowed for free exercise of religion because of Penn's beliefs.”

“Quite true, but do you know what the first one was?” Josh smirked at the success of his ploy even as he got safely out of hearing radius. Having an assistant was turning out to be more valuable than he could've imagined. 

 

January, 1999

“Are you sure you're going the right way?” Donna demanded, following Josh at a near-run through the twisting corridors of the West Wing. 

“Of course I am!” Josh insisted, increasing his stride as though that would make him even more credible. “I work here! I am in charge of everyone who works here, with a few notable exceptions that do not include you, by the way. I know this building like the back of my hand.” 

“You got lost going to the Mess yesterday,” she reminded him, wobbling a little on her heels but doing, she thought, an admirable job of keeping up. “And we just passed the Communications bullpen again.” 

“Okay, so the stairs are a little tricky,” he allowed. “But the West Wing, that is my territory. And sometimes I just need to keep an eye on Sam and Toby. You never know what they're going to be up to. Oh, here we go.” He took a sharp left turn, diverting them into Mrs. Landingham's office. 

“Hi, Mrs. Landingham,” Donna said with a smile for the most senior of the senior assistants. Donna had been intimidated by the older woman for the first few months of the campaign, but nobody was as good as Mrs. L for taking a new assistant under her wing and teaching her the ropes. Most of Donna's best Josh-management tricks had been learned by watching the Governor's- now the President's- secretary at work.

“Hello, Donna,” Mrs. Landingham replied with a benign smile. “Go right on in, Joshua, go save your friends.” 

Donna parked herself at the desk to wait for Josh, but he had other plans. With one hand on her lower back, he propelled her through the door ahead of him so that she all but stumbled into the Oval Office. Josh actually did stumble, running into her back when Donna stopped dead just inside the door like a rabbit spooked by headlights. Until now she'd never been in the Oval Office, only peeked into late at night with Ginger and Bonnie after the President had left. Right now it looked very different, with President Bartlet sitting in one of the wing chairs and Sam and CJ on each of the couches. CJ looked half-asleep, but Donna figured she was probably just thinking very hard about something. It was after normal business hours already, so whatever they'd been discussing was probably important. 

“Sorry that took so long, sir,” Josh said, maneuvering around Donna even as he caught her arm to rebalance her after nearly knocking her down. “But I was talking to Donna in the hallway and it turns out she took the White House tour and thinks there are some inaccuracies. That seems like an important thing to iron out.” Donna glanced at him quizzically; they'd had that conversation yesterday, and at the time Josh hadn't cared even a tiny bit. He pressed his fingers lightly against her arm, urging her to play along. 

President Bartlet's brow furrowed. “That doesn't sound right. Those tour guides are supposed to be experts on this entire building. I've taken that tour myself and relied on its wisdom!” He gave Donna a very intent look. “You'd better sit down and tell me exactly what it is they're saying and we'll get things sorted out.” Donna obediently seated herself on the very edge of one of the candy-striped couches, right next to CJ, who seemed to be having an in-depth nonverbal conversation with Josh. 

“Ah, CJ, I also think that Carol might need your help on the thing,” Josh went on. “With the state dinner and the guest list? She wanted us to take another look at it.” 

“Oh, right, yeah, that's really important,” CJ agreed with a nod. “If we don't get that published right, it could be a huge embarrassment.” She looked to the president. “With your permission, sir, I'll just go with Josh and get that taken care of.” 

“I'll help!” Sam agreed eagerly. “You really can't have too many eyes going over this sort of thing.” 

President Bartlet glared at all of them. “Ah, get out of here,” he ordered. They did so with alacrity, leaving Donna alone and feeling very small in the large and imposing office. The president leaned back in his chair, looking as comfortable as if he were sitting in his own living room. (Donna had been there once, it was very comfortable.) “So, what are these errors you noticed on the tour? Do we need to start hiring our own tour guides?” He was obviously joking, and it made Donna smile a little as well. “I'm not sure I could give tours myself, I've got this trick knee.” 

“I don't think that's necessary, sir,” Donna assured him with a soft laugh. “The tour was actually very good, and I learned a lot about the White House, especially the history. There were just a few small things that I mentioned to Josh in passing, but once he gets interested in something...” 

“Or thinks he's found something that will distract his boss long enough to let him escape,” President Bartlet added, raising both his eyebrows and daring her to contradict him. “Don't think I didn't notice how often he dropped you off at the front of the campaign bus.” She struggled not to laugh, but couldn't avoid the blush. “Tell me, Donna, do you get tired of being the matador's cape?” 

It seemed pointless to prevaricate when he'd obviously caught on to Josh's little game. “Not at all, sir,” she promised. He gave her a look that said he wasn't convinced. “I took the White House tour for fun even though I work here,” she reminded him. “But I can learn more in thirty minutes of listening to you than in two hours touring the building.” 

“Well now, that's just efficient.” Obviously pleased, President Bartlet slapped one knee lightly and leaned back in his chair. “And you're right, too. Did you know that the Presidential Seal on my rug here is actually the coat of arms of the presidency? And these thirteen stars, for the thirteen original states, of course, are actually called mullets, whereas if they didn't have straight arms, they'd be called estoiles. And those clouds...” 

Donna leaned forward, both to get a look at the rug and listen to the the president's explanation, her nervousness all but forgotten for the moment. 

 

August, 2000

Jed was watching television, or at least what passed for television in this prison cell of a hospital room, when the door opened quietly. Grateful for any distraction from boredom and the pain of twenty-three healing stitches, he looked over to see Abbey coming back into the room with one arm wrapped protectively around Donna Moss. Jed could immediately understand the impulse; the young woman was white, nearly grey, with fatigue and worry. “Now I want you to sit here and keep my husband entertained while I go bother the doctors for a little while. I'm going to come back with food, and if you eat it, I might be persuaded to tell you what I've found out.” 

“Yes, ma'am.” Donna nodded automatically and let Abbey put her into the chair next to the bed, folding her hands in her lap and staring at them as though mesmerized. Over her head, Abbey looked at Jed, giving him the pointed glance and head-nod she'd given him many times over their own daughters: do something with her. 

Jed raised the head of his bed another few degrees, so he could at least feel like he was sitting up. Hospital beds were ridiculous things, he'd be grateful when he could get out of this one. He studied the oblivious Donna and considered his approach. She wouldn't ignore him, he figured, he was the president and all his staffers were much too polite for that. “Is the surgery still going on, then?” 

Donna nodded, raising her head to look at him. Her eyes were reddened but dry; she was not crying yet. “Another couple of hours,” she told him softly. “They said it's a good sign that he's made it this far. The more of the- the more of the surgery he survives, the more his odds improve,” She knotted her fingers tightly together. 

“That's good,” Jed replied, keeping his voice quiet as well. She looked as though the wrong loud noise right now might shatter her. “The doctors here are excellent, patched me right up with no problems.” 

She looked immediately apologetic, which was not exactly what he'd been going for. “Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I should've asked how you're feeling! Do you need anything?” Donna half-rose from her seat and looked around, as though she'd find something important to do in the austere hospital room. 

He reached out and waved her back into her seat. “No, no, I'm fine,” he assured her. “Abbey has already told me to stop being such a baby, which I have to tell you is more reassuring than anything these doctors could've told me. Unfortunately she's also told me that she'll skin me alive if I so much as set foot out of this bed without her permission, so I'm staying here to avoid causing a fight between our Secret Service details.” 

Jed was gratified to see a smile, however tiny, on Donna's face at that. “And in the service of keeping me laying here like a sack of flour, it would appear my wife has taken a page out of Josh's playbook. So tell me Donna, do you have any interesting trivia about this hospital and its inhabitants?” 

She dropped her gaze to her hands again, shook her head. “I don't think so, sir. I'm sorry.” 

He waved away her apology. “That's no problem, that just means I get to do all the talking. Now just this once, mind you, if you feel like closing your eyes and listening, I'll allow that. It's been a very long day and night. But when I was young, we didn't go to the hospital for almost any reason. My brother Jonathan was born at home, in fact, and I remember how the midwife came to our house...” He spoke extemporaneously about his childhood, some fact and some embellishment, for about five minutes before her head began to nod forward despite her best efforts. By the time Abbey came back ten minutes later, Donna was sound asleep in the chair, and Jed was keeping one eye on her while he channel-surfed. 

 

September 2002 

Donna's eyes were half-closed as she gathered her things from her desk, trying to remember if there was anything else she was going to need in the next five hours. Her brain seemed to have shut itself off somewhere between Indianapolis and DC, with only intermittent bursts of function since. The guys were even worse; they'd decided it sounded like fun to walk to the White House instead of letting the airport shuttle take them all home for a few hours sleep, and she'd had to follow them, visions of faces on milk cartons dancing in her head. The walking idea had lasted about four blocks, after which point they'd paid a taxi a truly exorbitant amount to drive them the last half mile to the door. 

Once they'd arrived, it had taken Leo approximately three-quarters of a second to send them home again, telling them they weren't allowed back into the building before noon, but to be back no later than 12:15. If Donna hurried, she could catch her two trains home in time for two hours sleep and a shower. She didn't know which she wanted more right now. Maybe, if she was really lucky and there were no train delays, she might even get some food and coffee. Donna closed her eyes for just a second, imagining that lovely possibility. 

“Sleeping on your feet, Donnatella?” She startled and jerked upright at the completely unexpected voice. President Bartlet was standing on the other side of her desk, wearing an expression of benevolent amusement that said he was about to have a little fun at her expense. “I realize that the budget crunch has hit all our departments, but I would think they could at lest spring for a chair and a pillow.” 

“I'm sorry, sir,” she blurted out. “Leo's sent me home already, I was just about to leave. It's been a bit of a long day.” Even as she said it, she realized how asinine it sounded. She had spent the last day and a half trying to get two overgrown ten-year-olds out of Indiana, while the President had dealt with a campaign in full swing, a terrorist attack, a serious illness, and whatever else might have come up that she would never even know about. 

He just smiled. “Indeed it has,” he agreed. “But the whole White House owes you thanks for dragging our senior staffers home by the ear. God knows they'd never have made it otherwise.” All she could manage was a weak, slightly embarrassed smile for that, but inside she was warm to her toes. “You don't normally drive to work, do you?” 

She had no idea how he knew that. “No sir, I take the metro. It's not bad.” 

“Mmm,” he replied doubtfully. “Judging by how you looked a moment ago, I'd worry about you falling asleep and winding up in Baltimore instead of at your house. Toby and Josh are both on their way home now, you should be too. I'm going to have Nancy arrange a ride for you.” 

“That's very kind, Mister President, but you don't have to do that,” Donna began hastily, but he waved her to silence. 

“Don't bother to argue, Donna, any of my girls will tell you that I am intractable on matters of safety,” the President advised. “Just be in the North Lobby in five minutes”

“All right, I'll do that. Thank you, sir.” Donna smiled and watched as the President strode away, obviously pleased with at least this little bit of how his day had turned out. If she splurged and took a taxi back to work, her two hours of sleep had suddenly turned into three, and made coffee a certainty. Her day was looking up too. 

 

January 2003

Today had been the among the worst and the best days of Donna's life to date, and it didn't look to be getting less confusing anytime soon. Choosing to fall on her sword for Jack had been impulsive and, in retrospect, incredibly stupid. She'd really thought she had outgrown the woman who would sacrifice herself for her boyfriend, give up her own prospects thoughtlessly to help him get ahead. She'd learned that lesson pretty thoroughly back in Madison, and yet here she was again. She suspected it had more to do with guilt than she cared to admit, even to herself. 

She'd wanted to make things work with Jack, had wanted very badly to fall in love with him. Despite his political affiliation, he should've been everything she wanted in a man. Smart and kind, honorable and well-spoken, with an understated sort of humor and a body... well, she should've had no grounds for complaint at all. If anybody in the world should've been able to wrest her heart from the stupid place it had lodged itself for the past four years, it should've been him. But he hadn't, and she couldn't, and when she'd heard he was being reassigned, she'd felt a quick and traitorous moment of relief. He'd been so much more upset than her, and he'd been working so hard, and she'd known she wasn't really going to miss him. So when the quote had come out and she'd understood what had happened, well, she'd been on the phone to CJ before she'd really thought things through. 

Missing the inauguration had been terrible, part self-inflicted punishment, part not being able to bear another moment of Josh's anger. It had probably been naive of her not to realize how upset he would be. In any case, she'd cried through watching the entire thing on television, then put on her dress just to punish herself a little more before not going to the balls. She'd had her hair done already, it seemed a shame not to wear the dress, even if she didn't go anywhere with it. But then Josh had come for her, with his coterie of merry men, and he'd put his coat on her and sat her on his lap, and they'd danced... to say her day had taken a turn for the better was an understatement of massive proportion. She had no idea what all this meant for her and Josh in the future, but she was allowing more hope in her stupid heart right now than she had in the past year and a half. 

When the President had summoned his staff, she hadn't thought twice about following Josh; it was just how they did things. Seeing Will become deputy communications director had been adorable and bittersweet, since as much as she liked Will, she missed her friend who'd gone away. Some part of Donna suspected already that Sam would not be back. It hadn't been too much of a disappointment to forego the late-night balls; there was work to do and Donna was honored to be one of the ones who did it. She was back in her cubicle after midnight, her hair up in a wildly curly ponytail and her dress covered by one of Josh's old Harvard sweatshirts when Charlie came by. “The President would like to see you,” he told her neutrally. 

Donna's stomach dropped. That had been the worst thing she hadn't thought about, what the president would think of her for giving the quote, or rather for lying about it. “One second,” she told him. She pulled off the sweatshirt and shook out her hair, trying to look a little less disreputable, then followed Charlie to the Oval Office. President Bartlet was sitting behind his desk with a pile of briefing books in front of him, looking serious and very busy. Charlie announced her at the door, let her walk in, and then closed it with him on the other side, leaving her alone with the President. Once again, Donna felt very small in the Oval Office. This time, though, she wasn't going to show it. Keeping her back straight and her face up, she asked “You wanted to see me, sir?” 

For a long moment, the president didn't look up, leaving her standing on the presidential seal and trying not to squirm. The eagle's face was still pointing toward the olive branches, she noted absently, despite the actions they were taking in the world tonight. Peacekeeping, she supposed it was called. Her attention was drawn back when the president cleared his throat. “I had a talk with CJ about a quote coming out of the White House this week,” he began. “There were conflicting reports about where it might have come from.” Donna opened her mouth, still not sure what exactly she could say, but a shake of his head stopped her anyway. “Did you tell Commander Reese what you planned to do?” 

Donna planted her feet on the seal and stood up straighter. “Mister President, I take full responsibility for what I said and didn't say. It was a complete error in judgment on my part and I regret it more than I can say. Jack didn't know he was on the record when he said what he did, and they were words spoken in anger and dismay, not what he really feels. I should've called CJ and asked for her help in walking back the quote instead of making her job harder and taking advantage of her trust in me.” She forced herself to stop talking before she began babbling for real, and waited for what he would say. She wondered what she would do if he fired her. Assistants weren't typically asked to resign. 

The president regarded her over the top of his reading glasses. “Your loyalty is one of your most admirable qualities, Donna,” he told her sternly. “But so is your honesty. The ability to speak truth to power is rare and valuable, and I would hate to see you lose it by being less than scrupulous with the truth.” She swallowed hard and nodded. “Don't forget,” he added, “we could always give you back to Canada.” 

It was such an unexpected shift that Donna laughed out loud without even realizing it. His lips quirked as well, the stern facade cracking. “Of course, if I did that, I'd have to answer to my wife, who is fond of you. And there'd be the time and effort both to replace Josh and to apologize to the Canadians for whatever diplomatic mess he would create while going after you. So don't do it again, understood?” 

She beamed at him. “Yes sir, absolutely.” 

“Good.” He nodded at her. “Now get back to your desk, we've got four more years of work to do.” Donna nodded back and left, absolutely ready to get started.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the second set of five things, from the second administration. I have tried to be canon-compliant with all of these, but time is unimaginably weird in the second administration, and I was also up until 3 last night watching the beginning of Season 5 so I could write this. So if there are any continuity mistakes, I am sorry about them. :D

July 2003 

Charlie was tired, more tired than he thought he'd ever been in his life, and worried, and heartsick. It seemed like he should be celebrating today, or at least sleeping, but he couldn't. Zoey was alive and she was home, and that was an amazing miracle, but she wasn't well, and it ate at him. He'd seen her eyes when she sat in the back of that ambulance, when he mother had hugged her. There'd been something dead in them already, as if part of Zoey had given up and moved on, and hadn't quite come back yet. Oh, she'd pulled it together masterfully. She'd grown up in the bright light of media scrutiny, social lies were second nature and she was good at them. Charlie had watched her smile and wave for the press, watched her bear up bravely for her parents. It had been much harder to hold her hand and watch her pretend for him. 

He might have been able to pierce that shell eventually, get past the pretense and actually talk to her, but there just hadn't been enough time. Her mom was jumping at shadows right now, and a White House filled with noise and action was way too much for her. Liz and Ellie had both gone home with their newly-enlarged security details, and Mrs. Bartlet and Zoey were off to the farm with a small army of agents. Charlie wondered if maybe the guy who had talked to Josh ought to talk to Zoey, but it definitely wasn't his place to suggest anything like that. His job was to take care of the president, who'd come down from the Residence this morning looking put-together and ready to work, then stared out the pictures on his desk for nearly ten minutes while Charlie waited and watched him. 

“Sir?” he finally asked at long last. President Bartlet didn't move at all for a moment, finally stirring as though coming out of a trance. 

“Yes, Charlie?” he asked, his voice distracted. 

Charlie abandoned the thought of the daily schedule in his hand, calculated a few ways they could move things around. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” 

The president's voice was heavy, distracted. “Oh, no, I shouldn't think so, Charlie,” he began, then hesitated. “Actually... do you know if Donna is around yet this morning?” 

That was a surprising question, but Charlie barely blinked. “Yes sir, I believe she's at her desk. Do you need something?” 

“Could you ask Debbie to send her in here, please?” Charlie nodded and stepped out, a few quiet words to Debbie enough to start the ball rolling.

In less than five minutes Donna was walking into the Outer Office, looking mildly puzzled. “Debbie said the president wanted to see me?” she asked Charlie curiously. 

“That's right,” he agreed, then dropped his voice. “Mrs. Bartlet and Zoey left last night. It's a hard morning. You can go on in.” She nodded understanding and walked with him through the door. 

President Bartlet had moved out from behind his desk to sit in his favorite of the two wing chairs at the center of the room. He smiled at the two of them as they walked in, but it was a company smile, hearty and a little forced around the edges. “Good morning, Donna! Come sit down. What a way to begin a new year for our country, hmm?” 

Donna returned his smile, tentative but genuine as she took a seat on the couch. “Yes sir, we're all very grateful for the way things turned out. It was quite a celebration last night.” Charlie fell back to his usual out-of-the-way position at the back of the room; not wanting to intrude, but not about to leave unless made to. 

“It occurs to me, Donna, that you and I have never really had a chance to talk about Independence Day, and that's a deficit that must be remedied,” the president began. “For instance, do you know the story of Jefferson and Adams on Independence Day, 1826?” 

“I know that they were political rivals, sir,” Donna offered encouragingly. She knew the story, Charlie could tell right away, but she wasn't about to preempt the president's telling of it.

“Rivals, yes,” President Bartlet told her, “but also lifelong friends, and the last two remaining founders of our country. In July of 1826, John Adams was ninety years old...” Charlie stood by and watched as the president unfolded his favorite Independence Day yarn for an attentive audience, and in doing so, gained back some of the animation he'd been missing since Abbey and Zoey left. Donna didn't need to do much more than listen; for now just being present was enough. 

 

January 2004

Donna sat in the bullpen late that evening after everyone had gone home, even after the caterers had packed up and the janitors had come through with their equipment. Staying late had scored her a cellophane-wrapped tray of little leftover sandwiches, sitting forlorn and ignored for the moment in Josh's fridge. She couldn't stop looking through the binders. Thirty-five free people, thirty-five people going home to their families. Thirty-five mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, all of them already in prison too long. And right in the middle of the pack, one young man (god, so young! Still younger tonight than she'd been when she'd joined the campaign) who would never go home. She kept them all in order, Donovan Morrissey in his spot right in the middle, and looked through the stack over and over. 

Kandi Holmes was some consolation, Donna looked at her folder longer whenever it came around. She'd been so happy and overwhelmed to finally be free, and to be at the White House on top of that. Her world had been turned around in a single day, and Donna really believed her when she said she was going to make the most of her second chance. Her brother hadn't been willing to let her out of his sight, as though afraid she might disappear again if he closed his eyes or turned away. Donna looked at the family photos and tried to imagine the reunions, the phone calls. She constructed little fantasy stories that probably ignored all sorts of problems that the newly released and their families would face, but just for tonight, she needed that hope. 

She heard footsteps in the darkened hallway outside the bullpen, but assumed it was the Secret Service making their periodic sweep. It wasn't until the footsteps drew closer and stopped that she looked up to see the President watching her. Startled, Donna scrambled to her feet. “Mr. President! I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone else to be here at this hour.” She had no idea what time it was, but it was definitely late. 

“I could say the same thing,” President Bartlet replied, studying her intently. Donna shifted from foot to foot. He was certainly dressed for an evening up in the Residence, brown corduroy slacks and a plaid flannel shirt that would be much more at home on his New Hampshire farm than in the White House. “We don't keep banker's hours here, but this seems a little excessive. Do I need to have another talk with Josh?” 

“No sir,” She dropped her eyes, but kept them averted from the pile of binders. “Josh cut me loose after the reception, I just wasn't ready to go home yet.” 

She looked up in time to see him catch sight of the stack, including the one that was still open. Kevin Washington, twenty-five years old, driving a car full of friends through the Quad Cities while one happened to be carrying a large amount of heroin. He had a daughter he'd be meeting for the first time tonight as a free man. Donna knew his story by heart now, knew all of them. The President motioned to her for the binder; she picked it up and handed it to him. He studied the photograph and precis for a moment, then looked at her. “This man is home tonight?” 

Donna nodded. “Eric Holmes, the man you spoke to tonight after the speech, helped me confirm that all the pardon recipients were released this afternoon. Part of consideration for clemency was whether they would have someone to take them in if released, so they should all be home by now.” 

“Then it was a good day's work,” he reminded her. 

“Yes sir, I know,” she murmured, afraid to meet his eyes for fear that she would tear up again. “It was a wonderful and compassionate thing that you did, and all those families are celebrating tonight. I just...” She hesitated, shook her head. “I sometimes wish there was a way to save everyone, even though I know we can't.” 

Donna wasn't sure what she'd expected to see when she finally looked up to face the president, but she hadn't expected to see her own guilt and uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. “I was going to pardon him in the spring, after the furor had died down,” he told her quietly. “I never wanted anyone to get down on their knees and beg me. But if I'd pardoned him now, it would've destroyed everything we were trying to do. Another three or four months...” 

“You still saved thirty-five people,” Donna reminded him. “And if it draws attention to mandatory minimums and leads to changes in the system, you'll have saved a lot more. Donovan... he made a choice. And I can still see his mother's face, but I know you did the right thing.” 

President Bartlet reached out and clasped a warm hand on Donna's shoulder. “I did it because of you,” he told her soberly, but with a faint smile. “There aren't many people who could turn Josh Lyman all the way around on an issue he's already decided, especially when the politics are going to be difficult. He and Leo were set to give me a run-around on those pardons, but today he came in and argued their case with conviction and eloquence, and I know why. And then you came in yourself and told me what you'd had to listen to and what I needed to hear. Speaking truth to power, Donna,” he reminded her. “That's more valuable than you know.” He shook his head. “But I am sorry about Donovan.” 

Donna nodded, her tears finally spilling out, to her minor mortification. “I am too,” she managed. 

“Ah, hell. C'mere,” he told her, drawing her in and enfolding her in a hug. Donna was startled for a moment, then accepted it, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against his shoulder as he patted her back.“We did good today.” 

 

May 2005

Donna stared with distaste at the jiggling wad of red jello sitting in front of her on her dinner tray. There wasn't much else on the tray; the medications made her nauseous and the IV kept her hydrated, so the jello was really just practice food. She didn't like jello, and she really didn't like this red jello. It was unnerving. There wasn't very much red in her hospital room and she liked that, but it made what was there stand out that much brighter. Maybe if her leg didn't hurt so much it would be easier to eat, but right now it ached in throbbing waves that crashed up through her pelvis and pooled in her abdomen like sickness. There was no room for jello. That thought was kind of funny and she thought about sharing it with her mom, but right now her mom didn't seem to be in a very jokey mood, possibly because she was not hooked up to the morphine drip the way that Donna was. Donna had just pressed the morphine clicker before beginning to contemplate this jello, and it seemed like it was starting to work. She'd pressed it a few more times for good measure. 

Josh walked in, which was surprising because she hadn't noticed him leave. She usually noticed everything about Josh. She noticed the way he was behaving around Colin, and that was interesting. He almost acted like he was jealous, like he wanted Colin not to be there. Donna thought it would be okay if Josh told Colin to go away. It would definitely prove... something. Something good. Right now Josh had a phone in his hand and was talking into it. “Yes, she's awake, but she's a little out of it still... no, she's eating jello. Okay. Okay. Yes sir, thank you. I will.” He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Donna's uninjured leg and handed her the phone. “It's for you.” 

Donna traded Josh her spoon for the phone, which he held onto with a mildly bemused expression. “Hello?” she said curiously into the phone. It came out just a tiny bit slurred. 

“Hello, Donnatella, it's good to hear your voice.” Donna unconsciously tried to straighten up when she heard President Bartlet on the line, but all the hurting places made that too difficult, so she just scrabbled around ineffectually for a second. “How are you feeling? Are they treating you all right in that hospital?” 

“It hurts,” she told him with a pout, then belatedly remembered to add “sir.” “My leg hurts a lot, and my chest. They had to do some surgeries, and I can't move my leg or lay down flat. I had a pulmonary embolism, like the one that Josh's dad died from.” She looked up and met Josh's eyes. “But they fixed it.” 

“Yes, I heard about that,” the president replied, his voice gentle. “You've had a lot of people very worried about you, young lady. I hope you're listening to your doctors over there.” 

“They gave me red jello,” she complained. “It's nasty.” 

He laughed, and that made her smile too, even though everything still hurt. “Well, you have my permission not to eat the jello, and you can tell them I said so. But you have to listen to them on the rest. I need you back here at the White House as soon as you're ready.” 

“Okay,” Donna agreed. “I'll make Josh eat it instead. I miss you too, sir. Here's Josh.” She shoved the phone back into Josh's surprised hands and yawned. With the morphine starting to work and a presidential permission slip to avoid her jello, it seemed like a good time for a little nap. Josh would take care of whatever needed to be done. 

 

December 2005

Jed looked up from his desk as the door from the Outer Office opened. “Donna Moss, sir,” Debbie announced, holding the door open to admit the former senior assistant. Donna walked a little differently since coming back, even when she'd finally escaped the crutches and the cane. A little bit more deliberately, a little more carefully. Right now she walked a little slower as well, as though not sure she belonged standing in this building or this office anymore, or as though she dreaded what was coming once she stepped onto the blue presidential carpeting. 

Usually Donna reminded him of his daughter Liz, opinionated and stubborn in the best ways, ready to overcome any setback or obstacle by sheer tenacity. Today, though, her head was tilted down as she stood in front of him and he could see Ellie in her, all that uncertainty and unease. Normally he would've waved her to the sofa and joined her in the chair, but getting up was not currently the easy production he liked it to be. Curtis was hovering outside, but Jed preferred not to be manhandled around his own office like a giant doll whenever possible. So instead he pointed her to the wooden-backed chair next to his own desk. 

“So, Donnatella,” he began conversationally as she seated herself, “I arrived back from my trip to China two days ago, only to be informed of some precipitous staffing changes during my absence. I had to make some calls, in fact, to learn where you were at all. I believe that two weeks notice is traditional, indeed, all but obligatory in these circumstances?” 

His gentle chiding had the desired effect, Donna raised her chin and straightened her back, ready to defend herself even now. “Sir, I had nearly four weeks accrued vacation time that I hadn't taken. I traded it in lieu of notice and provided detailed written instructions for my replacement. I'm sure that as soon as a new assistant is hired, she or he will have no trouble-” 

“Donna.” He waved her to silence. “I have no doubt that your departure was as thoroughly organized and well-planned as any state dinner I've ever had to sit through or military strike I've had to order. My real question is why you chose to leave that way, so suddenly, after all these years?” 

She brushed her hair away from her face with the side of one hand, smiling a quick, self-deprecating smile. “I know it seems sudden, and maybe a little bit unhinged, but I was ready for a change. My years working in this White House have been the best years of my life, and it's been an honor and a privilege to serve your administration, but my job wasn't what I wanted anymore. It was making me unhappy, and it was time to leave.” 

Jed considered her silently for a moment. Eight years spent in close proximity to people, you picked up on a number of things about them. There were things he understood about Donna, and about her boss, that neither of the pair would ever have admitted out loud. “Everyone's entitled to make changes in their lives,” he agreed, “but the last time I checked, there are something like eleven hundred jobs in the White House, and you're capable of doing most of them. A transfer wouldn't have sufficed?” 

“I really wanted a new start, sir.” She looked him in the eye, and he could see a glimpse of the heartbreak carefully concealed behind a professional demeanor. Whatever had happened, he suspected it was only tangentially related to Donna's job. 

Jed wanted to promise to have words with Josh, or to kick his ass if necessary, but that wasn't his place, and he suspected it wasn't what she wanted. It was still hard to resist the impulse. Nobody was allowed to hurt his girls. “So I suppose it's too late to try and lure you back to the glamour and ease of a career in the White House?” he asked instead, keeping his voice light. 

“I've already accepted a new job,” she told him, cheering up a little bit. “I'll be working with Will Bailey to develop Vice President Russell's campaign. I'm going to be spending most of my time in New Hampshire for the next little while, so I suppose you could say I'll be close by in spirit.” 

“It's the best place in the world to spend a cold and beautiful winter,” he assured her. “Make sure you dress very warmly.” She nodded at that. “I know that you and Will are going to do very well by the Vice President. We'll miss having you both.” 

“Thank you sir.” There was a little catch in Donna's voice, but she swallowed it masterfully. “And I just want to say that it really has been an honor, and a true pleasure, to work for you the past seven years-” 

“Eight years,” he interrupted playfully. “You worked for me during the campaign, too.” 

Donna grinned a little. “I was volunteering for most of that,” she reminded him. 

“It was still pretty hard work,” he pointed out and made her laugh. “Don't treat this like a goodbye,” he advised. “I still have another year as president, I can still haul you into this office anytime I like. And I'll take it very personally if you don't stop by and visit sometimes when the campaign brings you to town. Not enough people in this building appreciate a good story.” 

“I'll make sure to remember that, sir,” she promised him with a smile. 

“Good.” He opened his arms and she went into them readily, the hug only a little awkward due to the chair. “Now go be brilliant.” 

 

January 2007

Josh shivered as he climbed the steps to the purpose-built dais in front of the Capitol Building. Part of it, the part he would admit to, was that it was cold as hell in DC on January 20th, even in an overcoat and wool suit. The rest of it was pure nerves and excitement. This was his third trip up these stairs, but the thrill hadn't abated a bit. Next to him, Donna's hand was shaking a little in his grip, and he was willing to bet she wasn't that cold. This was her first time on the dais; even indispensable assistants didn't warrant a place at the front of the crowd. “Looks a little different from this angle, huh?” he murmured in her ear. 

She turned to him, her eyes alight with excitement and joy. “This is amazing,” she told him gleefully. “I can't believe we're actually here doing this!” 

“It only gets realer from here,” he promised. “We've still got to go get into our offices after this, that should bring reality crashing back nicely. I wonder if those trick nails we used on Amy are still in your new office...” She gave him an outraged laugh and shoved him in the arm. 

“Now now, this is a solemn occasion, not a playground.” Josh and Donna both snapped to attention and turned around to find President Bartlet behind them, giving them both a quelling look. 

Josh risked a glance over at Donna; her alabaster skin was beet red with embarrassment or cold or both. “Sorry, Mr. President,” Donna said contritely. “Josh was being horrible and I had to sort him out.” 

“Hey!” Josh interjected, surprised and indignant. She was supposed to be his partner in crime, here. 

“I see,” the president replied, nodding gravely. “Somehow I have no doubt of that. Joshua, you're moving into a very important and influential role in the new administration. You need someone to keep you in line, and I'm sure Donna is up to the task, even from the East Wing. God knows Abbey never had much trouble doing it with me,” he observed wryly. Donna beamed at him. 

“I don't think Donna will have any trouble either, sir,” Josh managed. He realized he had no idea how much the president knew about... anything really, when it came to him and Donna. He'd been too busy with transition to make many social visits to the White House, and he suddenly regretted it a little. 

“Not that she won't have her hands full with her own responsibilities,” President Bartlet added. “Chief of Staff to the First Lady's a more important job than most people understand. If things aren't going well in the East Wing, they won't go well in the West Wing either,” he advised. “The two of you are going to have to work closely together. I suspect that won't be too much of a problem.” He looked down, and Josh realized he was looking at their still-clasped hands. “And you should both be rested up after your vacation. How did you like Hawaii?” he asked Donna. 

“It was wonderful,” Donna assured him, squeezing Josh's hand lightly and looking in his direction. “Everything I'd hoped.” Josh suspected that his smile was by now looking a little goofy, but he didn't really care, even in front of all these people. It had been everything he'd hoped, too. 

“That's good.” The president's face was warm as he regarded the two of them. “Both of you are at the start of an amazing journey. Take care of each other, and remember to take the time to be together.” He leaned in and hugged Donna, kissing her on the cheek. “Abbey and I are very proud of you.” Donna's eyes were wet when she pulled back, but Josh didn't think he'd ever seen her smile so bright. “And Leo was incredibly proud of you,” he told Josh, grasping him at hand and elbow. “He'd be even prouder today.” 

Josh nodded and pursed his lips tightly, blinking back a couple of errant tears. “Thank you, Mr. President,” he managed. 

“Oh, and Josh,” President Bartlet continued, leaning in confidentially, “I may not have the 82nd Airborne at my command anymore, but I'm still a powerful and influential man. You take very good care of her, all right?” 

“Yes sir,” Josh agreed, torn between amusement and a little bit of fear. 

Donna laughed and looped her arm through Josh's. “I'll make sure he does,” she promised.

“Well that's all right, then. I suppose we'd all better find our seats and get this show on the road. They're not waiting on my pleasure any longer around here, as if they ever did.” The president nodded at them both, then headed off toward the front row of seats where his wife was already waiting for him. 

Josh kept hold of Donna's arm as they found their seats and sat down, safely anonymous in the throng at the back of the dais. He leaned in close as the music began to play. “So what do you think, more or less scary than meeting your actual dad in Wisconsin?” he joked. 

“My dad is a claims adjuster,” Donna pointed out with a chuckle. “And you weren't dating me then. But you also had to meet my three brothers.” 

He tightened his fingers around hers. “Yeah, good point. We'll call it a wash.”


End file.
